Chapter 1. Beating Your Feet On The Mississippi Mud
So... I, Commodus, made America great! These are my commentaries on the grand adventures and dangerous struggles I confronted and triumphed over, with Honor. I know my father, Emperor Marcus Aurelius, and all the Roman Empire, who entrusted to me this great Mission of Ambassador to America, would be proud if they learned of this. Perhaps they shall. There is here no Roman historian, as Pliny the Elder; or Homer, who scribed the tales of Achilles and the Greek war with Troy, Rome's progenitor, and those of my ancestor Heracles himself. And so I must record them for posterity myself...in all modesty and honesty. Herewith, my testimony:
I and Balshazar, former Gladiator and my own war-mentor, stared out at the mouth of the "Mississippi River." After four months of heroic journey, I came, I saw, but I did not conquer, as the Divine Gaius Julius Caesar had done in Gaul 225 years ago! We did use not only the maps and Encyclopedia but also the advice given us by Miguel de la Mancha, my friend and the Ambassador to Rome from America, to arrive at this point in his homeland, nine years after his own mysterious appearance in Rome: follow the coastline of Africa through the Pillars of Heracles, south to the Azores, then west by slightly south, using the new "compasses" and "sextants" He had granted us to always find North and remain near Terra's equator. By crossing the wide Atlantic Ocean north of this, we took advantage of the steady westward wind and water currents He described. This proved accurate.
After 49 days with no sight of land, we arrived at what the maps showed to be "South America" near this continent's northeast corner. The entire fleet gave a great cheer of relief to end their terrors of open water! And again we proved that this world in NOT flat, but ball-shaped, its circumference having been measured by the Greeks centuries ago. We encountered only one storm of consequence, but rode it out without loss of life and only minor damage to one of the fleet's ships. And using the coast we again sailed–we did have to use the steam engines a few times when becalmed–north and west along this coast until we entered the "Gulf of Mexico."
Per His advice again we went ashore only to restock supplies and avoided any native contacts. Finally we turned westward to pass "Cuba," an island also of no consequence to our main Mission. The civilizations here and in South America were, per Sir de la Mancha, at constant warfare and much too aggressive to react to our presence with any but the most violent responses. While I personally would have welcomed–and won--such a challenge, I realized it would have taken all Rome's Legions to even begin a protracted conquest. We had other means to use, with greater chance of success, in North America. We would see.
There were several large mouths of rivers entering this warm shallow sea, but the colors of these were not yet as Sir de la Mancha had described to us. Finally, after several days continuing north, then being forced to turn east and then south a day, we beheld the dark brown outflow of the widest river yet, fanning out from a wide delta into the clear green-blue sea waters. Anchoring for two days, we again sent shore parties to the nearest swampy land, to restock water, fuel wood, and some (strange but tasty!) game before starting our journey inland here. As during our prior stops to restock on the various coasts we encountered, these brave men reported seeing signs of active human habitation, but no actual people. Apparently they had fled inland at our approach, and I had ordered no pursuit–again following His advice.
The counsel of captains, governed by the Admiral, Nauticus Anemo, decided we should send but half the fleet up-river the next day, single-file to hide our numbers. Any urgent communications could be made using the messenger pigeons all ships carried. It seemed a good strategy to me. Yet I insisted, over their cautions, to lead in the Argo as standard bearer of the Roman Eagle, the huge bronze figurehead affixed to my ship's prow just below the small steam cannon. Moreover, we all agreed yet again that we would act according to the advice of the Ambassador and not perform anything provocative. After much discussion it was our decision to do something unexpected, to us and, we hoped, to the natives.
This was terra incognita, despite the (sketchy, I thought) knowledge we had been given re this part of the continent. Therefore, as commander, I would determine when we arrived at a center of civilization, such as a city with a well-developed dock. Then we would land just a single boat with a modest group having no obvious military aboard. If barbarians came to us, we would do our best to communicate. Sir de la Mancha had warned us we would not understand any of the languages here.
This was the largest obstacle to this Mission: to establish a continuing relationship with this civilization and offer the Roman way of life in a peaceful non-aggressive manner–much as was now being done with success along the borders of the Empire back in Europe. And this had been having a most optimistic result when we had departed for this New World. Here also it would take time and trust to develop the means to understand each other, to treat each other with patience and respect...so had advised Sir de la Mancha. I would do my utmost to proceed this way. Not all wars are won by battle...indeed, I had begun to suspect–at Balshazar's instruction–that true heroes can be those who can avert fighting in favor of peaceful means. We would see.
A test was devised. At each such potential location on the river, where the barbarians simply did not greet us but again fled at the sight of our vessels, we would not pursue them. Expected, actually, since none such could have ever been seen here before, we had been told, moving with seeming magic, sails furled and no oars. Instead, we would erect as quickly as possible a standard Roman archway from the local stone and wood. Nothing too large, but one impressive nonetheless. Then we would continue on upstream, remaining with this procedure for at least two weeks, unless we had success earlier. If not, we would then return downstream, visiting each location's arch. If it was destroyed, we would not land. If it was ignored, the natives still absent, we would not land. But if they had found the arch worthy of adding to, of creating more than we had given, or simply appeared when we approached, then we would land and make our first attempt at establishing a relationship.
And so it went. The sight of five wood ships, far larger and more complex than any of the oar-driven ones we found floating by abandoned or tied empty at piers, must have frightened all who saw them. This must have included also those who tended the aquiculture pens built along the river banks to farm fish and shellfish, as Europeans did. In two weeks we glimpsed not a single person, and landed to leave an arch, about three paces across and just over head high, at seven ports, three of which did have sizable towns inland with decorated buildings near the shore, some fairly well built of wood, wattle, thatch, and some even two-story. By this time we had reached the first truly large tributary to the "Mississippi," called the "Ohio" per the maps, which branched off to the northeast and reached well into the northeastern part of the continent. Turn-around time.
Then on the return trip we passed the last four arches; all wrecked, even two completely removed. But the fifth one south had been used already as the front for a structure of two stories and still being widened, construction scaffolding in place! We anchored at midstream near twilight and spent the night watching for any signs. No fires, no movement. At dawn we launched a single dinghy with a dozen men, including but two at arms, and with Balshazar and myself of course. All wore simple caftan robes to conceal our armor and short weapons. Still, my rule was: attack only if attacked.
I had seen this become a successful tactic at Rome's borders in Germania and hoped it would work as well here. Indeed, we had the means to make ourselves what Sir de la Mancha had called a "Welcome Wagon," after peaceful negotiations had begun, to encourage the barbarians into cooperation without bloodshed. We landed at the short pier and approached the structure's arch entry slowly in ranks of two, myself and Bal abreast in front. Now we could hear furtive movements and smell cooking fires beyond. I paused, then went ahead when the column bumped into us.
Bal's deep voice whispered, "This is one small step for a Roman, one giant leap for civilization." "Let us hope," I mumbled.
Then a short plump figure appeared in the arch. He wore a gray robe simply draped over his wide shoulders, with a hole cut in the middle for his head. He was totally bald, but his face was tanned and his full beard was artfully braided. We had been told these natives would appear reddish of skin and totally beardless! His was grizzled below a prominent nose, with his creased pale-face also showing years of care and sadness. And he was definitely a Roman! He halted a few paces away, raised his right arm, and crossed his chest in traditional salute.
In perfect Latin he said, "Hale and greetings, fellow Romans!" He glanced slightly up at Bal's wide black face, as though in recognition! "And to any others of your expedition. We have been hoping for your return after..." He twisted to gesture at the arch. "There is no mistaking this! Your arrival is completely unexpected–but whole-heartedly welcome. Many years I have dreamed of such a day."
No one spoke for several seconds, then I ignored his continued looks my way and at Bal's giant figure and cleared my throat. "And so is your appearance in this land! We had thought, had been told, that we would be the very first from Rome to visit here. This seems a near miracle! Who are you and how have you come to be here?"
The man's face twisted up into an obviously rare smile, filled with wry ire. "I am Ericus Rodolphus Morenus, once of the house of Morenus of the Northern Italian Po River state, brought here by the whim of the gods and lame fortune. But that is a tale lengthy and sorrow-filled. Let us share each other's stories later this day. First let me escort you into the presence of the Chief of this village, which is called by his name, so you may tell him of your intentions." He lowered his voice. "And they must be peaceful ones and by means of which he will profit greatly... so?"
I nodded vigorously. "Absolutely! This IS our Mission here."
Only then did he reach out to take my forearm with a somewhat feeble grip. The man turned and walked slowly with head high below the arch's peak, to lead all of us through it and into the large single room within. The furnishings inside had been hastily installed, as the freshly-crafted wall hangings and unmarked but dirt floor indicated. Two dozen people were inside, all red-faced and beardless barbarians and well dressed in colorful fabrics decorated with beadwork and woven patterns, hastily gathered, some even gasping as though having run here.
(Suddenly, I realized I could no longer think of them as "barbarians" since they indeed had no beards..."barbar" being the word for beard...another ironic terminology because some of US did!)
All of these...natives drew deep breaths and backed a pace or two when we entered. And all stared in curiosity and some fear at Balshazar first, then at the rest of us. Natural. We were like Ericus Morenus, but the black-skinned giant must have seemed mythological. I felt a tinge of envy but crushed it. These natives were on average a bit shorter than we Romans, who after all had to be at least six feet to be in the Legion, and most of our crews had been chosen from them. Our host spoke loudly to all, and they seemed to relax a bit. His words sounded to me as though he cleared his throat of heavy phlegm and spat it slowly out! I of course knew Greek and some of the dialects uttered by the Gauls and German tribes; this was totally different.
A great relief washed over me. Having this Roman here would accelerate our Mission enormously. Then I saw them all turn quickly to our right, where the "Chief" sat on his throne. A large man, wide and heavy of shoulder and narrow of hip, and adorned with a headdress of beaded fibers and seven colored feathers that stuck high into the air. As with most of these obviously well-off people, he wore brightly-colored woven fabric; a tunic and short trousers much like the Plebeians of Rome. But his torso was wrapped in what I suppose was armor, of woven wicker, studded with black beads. He even had greaves of the same material. He sat stiffly upright in a big chair of decorated wood, and held a wood club with stone flakes embedded along one side.
On his wide smooth face was a fixed expression I interpreted as stern. He spoke in a clear deep voice...more garbled words...for quite some time, no doubt setting ground rules he thought necessary for our first contact. On more than one such occasion during expeditions with my father to Rome's borders, I had been witness to these meetings. The man with the local power, gained with force and blood surely, standing his ground in the face of a new threat to his ego. There, we had behind us the Legions of Rome for support. But here, we few offered little to fear...exactly as I had intended.
So, after Morenus translated the Chief's (name sounded like "Wump-mug" to me!) stodgy welcome and unsubtle demands to have us speak of our purpose here, I gave the practiced speech prepared with the Ambassador's help...edited version: "Honored leader, I am Lucius Aurelius Commodus Antoninus, the son of the great leader, Marcus Aurelius Antoninus, of the Empire of Rome, which lies far across the ocean to the east."
Having had no time to learn exactly what Ericus Morenus had told these people of our homeland, I had to improvise and hope not to contradict what had been said. Best to remain vague. "We are a mix of dozens of peoples, millions in number, and enjoying a society based on law, science, and religion. With few exceptions we now have peace and prosperity in all our lands. Therefore, we have come here to bring these blessings among you, to peacefully exchange ideas and goods that will enrich the lives of all your people as well. We will take nothing except in trade; we will build no homes or other structures except with permission; we want no slaves or gold–we have no use for either. In future, we hope to have a continuous relationship that is mutually beneficial to both our worlds. Ours lies far away, a journey that has been long and perilous, but we hope it will be worth the risks, to you and for us."
There. Pretty good way to assuage this fellow's fears. Per the Ambassador's teachings, Wump-mug was most likely very low in the hierarchy of the chiefdom authority structure that had been in place here for many centuries. After further talk with Morenus, I would decide just how far up this ladder to go before actually starting the serious exchanges needed. Start small, but be impressive nonetheless.
Morenus translated for some time, as I stared directly at the Chief, who returned his own without expression. He did seem to relax a bit when he'd heard it all, then spoke again to me. "We are pleased to greet you and your people...under the conditions you have described. We ask only that you remain attended at all times when in our village. And we invite you and your leaders to join us tonight in a feast of welcome."
This last ended with his glance at Bal. I simply acknowledged with a deep bow, then motioned with a backhand gesture for us to move out the same door we'd entered. Morenus remained, nodding to signal he would join us later. It was obvious that this feast was to be a demonstration, by both groups, to show and tell something else beyond words. I would surely accommodate this.